


you don’t own me (but would you?)

by millenniumboy



Series: a night to dismember [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenniumboy/pseuds/millenniumboy
Summary: “Are you going to make me stop thinking?” Jeno asks wryly as Chenle slides over the floor on his chair, gently kicking Jeno’s legs open so he can scoot in between them.“I’m going to jerk you off,” Chenle says steadily. “What your brain does after that isn’t really in my control.”Jeno pauses and flushes, his bare chest immediately giving his thoughts away, turning a pale red under Chenle’s unflinching gaze. “Oh. Okay.”“Is that okay?” Chenle asks, tipping his head to the side as he considers Jeno. Jeno already feels breathless under his eyes. “I’m not going to let you come that easily.”“Yeah,” Jeno breathes, feeling blood drain from his body heading in one very specific direction. His legs part wider, unconsciously. “Yeah, that’s okay.”
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Zhong Chen Le
Series: a night to dismember [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946824
Comments: 10
Kudos: 161





	you don’t own me (but would you?)

**Author's Note:**

> DAY TWO: AFTERCARE  
> DAY THREE: EDGING/ORGASM DENIAL
> 
> this is the spiritual (less platonic) sequel to [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992364)  
> 

“Hyung.”

Jeno ignores him. He focuses in on himself in the fogged up mirror just as the bass hits, harsh and clanging. On instinct, his body moves, launching into the next set of movements but there’s no finesse to it. No matter how hard Jeno tries, its messy. His limbs flail and his muscles ache, screaming at him to stop. It’s wrong though. Just a little. Just enough that it tugs at him, like a hook caught under his skin, pulling uncomfortably.

“Hyung!”

Jeno hits the jump, and the spike of pain that reverberates up his foot when he lands just a little bit off is enough to make him gasp, gritting his teeth as he skids to a stop. The music stops abruptly and then cool hands are wrapped around his arms, holding him, bracing him as Jeno drops onto the floor in a messy heap. 

“I’m fine,” Jeno grits out but there’s soft _tsk_ already cutting him off before he can say more. 

“You’re not. I told you to stop hours ago and now you could have _hurt_ yourself.”

Panic seizes Jeno and his gut roils. He can’t be hurt, not now, not when they’re right in the middle of comeback prep, not when he has million tiny different things to, ten different choreographies to keep straight in his head, concert preparations looming over his head. He’s too busy to be hurt. “I can’t—” he gasps, scrambling upward. His head spins but he grabs at his ankle, hoping the pain swimming through him is just a factor of exhaustion and not fucking up his leg. He needs that leg. 

A gentle shush. “Let me see.” 

Jeno swallows hard as the hands carefully help him sit upright, holding on for a second as if afraid that Jeno will tip over before carefully rolling up his pants leg. Jeno hisses when his ankle is carefully guided this way and that but then he’s being observed through messily hair, eyes sharp and knowing as they lock onto him and despite himself, Jeno flushes, embarrassed. 

“I don’t think you sprained it. You probably just landed on it wrong on the jump.” His ankle is carefully set back down. A shrug. “But what do I know, I’m not a doctor.”

Jeno takes a shaky breath. “Okay,” he says. “Good.” He goes to stand, shakily, before he’s yanked back down. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Jeno blinks at the furious voice before he recovers. “Practicing,” he says. “It doesn’t hurt. I didn’t break anything. I need to practice.”

He needs to do so many things. He needs to make sure Donghyuck isn’t worn out when he comes back from wherever the fuck he is right now, doing 3 hours of a concert every single night. He has a script to look over for an MC thing he’s doing the day after tomorrow. He needs to check in on Jisung before he worries himself into another useless anxiety attack. He needs — he needs — 

“What you _need_ is to take a break.”

Jeno doesn’t turn to look at him, as he goes to turn on the music. A cold hand wraps around his wrist and yanks him back and Jeno slips, goes skidding against a firm chest and his hand comes up to grasp onto his shirt, clinging so he doesn’t fall again. The heartbeat under his palm is what breaks him. 

“I can’t—” he says but there’s no force behind the words. They just come out pained and breathless. Ragged. “I can’t. I can’t take a break. I can’t stop.” He looks up and meets Chenle’s gentle gaze and it almost destroys him. Almost rips him apart from the inside out. Jeno clutches his own collar, pulling the tank top away from his neck as if it’s strangling him. “If I stop, I feel like I’ll stop breathing,” he gasps. “I can’t stop thinking. If I stop, I feel like— like—” 

“Okay, hyung, it’s going to be okay,” Chenle shushes. His hand comes around the back of Jeno’s neck and tugs him into a hug. Jeno flinches, not realising what’s happening until Chenle has wrapped his arm fully around his body, pulling Jeno flush against him, his face buried in Chenle’s neck. “It’s going to be okay.”

It’s odd but Jeno cannot remember the last way he’s hugged someone like this; so desperately, clinging to Chenle as if it is the only thing that will keep him from floating away from this plane of existence. “You don’t know that,” he mumbles, breath still hitching uncomfortably. Chenle’s hand is running circles over his spine, looping between his vertebrae. 

“I know a lot of things,” Chenle disagrees. “I’m very smart.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Chenle hums. “I knew if you stopped the world wouldn’t end. And look at that: nothing happened.” Jeno huffs and tries to peel himself away but Chenle holds him there. He thinks they’re up against the wall of the practice studio, because it certainly feels like there’s something behind him but Jeno can’t pull away from Chenle far enough to touch. 

“I’m not done yet,” Chenle warns. “You have to stop thinking too.”

“Doesn’t seem like I’ll ever be able to do that,” Jeno mutters. 

Finally Chenle leans back, just enough that Jeno can peer up at his placid expression with narrowed eyes. “Don’t question my methods,” Chenle says gravely before his countenance splinters in a pretty grin as he steps away. Jeno shivers a little, the cool air from the air conditioning blasting over him as Chenle’s body warmth retreats. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” 

“I need to—” Jeno starts, casting a last look at the computer but Chenle drags him away before he can even finish his sentence. 

Jeno eats a whole meal, probably for the first time in days, under Chenle’s strict gaze and then goes to take a too long shower. Chenle is sitting at his computer desk, twirling around in the chair while staring down at his phone when Jeno returns. 

“Finally,” Chenle says, eyeing Jeno up and down as he towels off his wet hair. “I didn’t know how to tell you delicately that you stunk to high heaven.”

“You managed quite fine just now,” Jeno points out sourly and Chenle grins, like lightning, flashing across his face before it’s gone. It feels like a treat to have seen it, to be the one to have summoned it. “Where is everyone?” 

Chenle shrugs but there’s something unsaid hovering in his expression. “Sit,” he says, pointing a foot at Jeno’s bed. 

Jeno eyes him before he tosses his towel in the direction of the laundry basket and sinks onto his bed. He has an idea of where this is going but he doesn’t want to presume. Chenle does what he wants when he wants to. Jeno is mostly just along for the ride — as a very willing participant. 

“Are you going to make me stop thinking?” Jeno asks wryly as Chenle slides over the floor on his chair, gently kicking Jeno’s legs open so he can scoot in between them. 

“I’m going to jerk you off,” Chenle says steadily. “What your brain does after that isn’t really in my control.”

Jeno pauses and flushes, his bare chest immediately giving his thoughts away, turning a pale red under Chenle’s unflinching gaze. “Oh. Okay.”

“Is that okay?” Chenle asks, tipping his head to the side as he considers Jeno. Jeno already feels breathless under his eyes. “I’m not going to let you come that easily.”

“Yeah,” Jeno breathes, feeling blood drain from his body heading in one very specific direction. His legs part wider, unconsciously. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

“Red to stop?”

“Red to stop.”

Chenle’s cool hands land on the inside of his thighs, pushing them apart further and Jeno gasps at the touch. Chenle glances up at him, dark eyes seeming to bore through him before he’s looking back down, gently ghosting his hand over Jeno’s covered cock, watching it as it grows under his touch, filling up almost embarrassingly quickly. 

His other hand slowly traces up the planes of Jeno’s stomach, and his chest before thumbing over a nipple. Jeno’s toes curl and he takes a deep breath to try and steady himself. 

It seems to take forever, an agonising period of _nothing_ , where Chenle just runs his hands over Jeno’s body, tracing and exploring, as his dick hardens, pressing painfully against the waistband of his boxers. When Chenle finally starts pulling his cock out, that small movement makes Jeno go crazy and his cock twitches, precome starting to bead at the head. It’s taken almost nothing; if Jeno weren’t so close to losing his mind already, he’d feel embarrassed over it. 

Chenle’s hand cups his jaw and a thumb slides over his lips. “Suck,” Chenle says casually as if he says this on a daily basis. As if he has his hands in members’ mouths on a daily basis. When Jeno’s mouth drops open to suck in his thumb, three of Chenle’s fingers push instead, pushing his jaw open, the saliva that had pooled there stupidly fast under that one word uncomfortably dripping down his jaw. 

Chenle closes a spit slick palm over Jeno’s cock moments later and that itself is enough to have Jeno whimpering, a silly little noise slipping out unheeded from his mouth. 

Chenle strokes at his cock slowly, bringing him up fully hard as if Jeno hasn’t been straining to go since Chenle pushed his legs open. Jeno’s not exactly sure where to look, but staring at Chenle is where is brain seems to settle on. He loosely jacks him off, tightening the grip every so often making Jeno’s gut clench before twisting his fingers rather meanly over the weeping head. 

“Look at you,” Chenle says, breaking the quiet softly. Jeno glances up at him and immediately blushes; Chenle’s staring at him, as he increases the pace, pausing to squeeze harshly before he pulls off. “I just have to get my hand on you and you’re already so desperate, aren’t you?”

Jeno bites his lower lip, reluctant to let any noises out. He doesn’t want to humiliate himself anymore than he already has. 

“So pretty,” Chenle murmurs and his other hand comes up to brush over Jeno’s nipple making him gasp, mouth dropping open as Chenle persists.

It's so much. It feels like Chenle's hands are _everywhere,_ jerking him off in an unpredictable rhythm, running along the inside of his thighs, pressing into old bruises, pinching his nipples, tracing over his abs. Jeno feels like he's going insane.

Then Chenle slowly picks up his pace, hand tightening every so slightly around Jeno. Jeno swallows hard, a whimper escaping him and he plants his feet on the floor, hips pushing up into Chenle's grip, desperate for something more. To his credit, Chenle just lets him. Jeno might feel humiliated about it, about fucking up into his fist, with no thought for how he looked, if he weren't so eager. So ready to come.

The end comes faster than Jeno thought it would. He was really too wound up, clearly. Chenle starts helping too, twisting over the head, his other hand dropping to Jeno's balls and Jeno groans, tossing his head back, hands fisted tightly in his sheets as he fucks into Chenle's hand. Fuck, it's right there.

"Please," Jeno gasps, the first thing he's said since this whole thing started and Chenle's eyes flash up to his.

"Please what?" He asks, sounding only faintly amused.

Jeno whimpers as he jacks Jeno off faster and his stomach clenches, gut tensing, and back bowing as he —

Chenle pulls his hand off and Jeno sobs, writhing into thin air for a second, hips jerking up into nothing before he falls back against the bed, panting and feeling like shit.

"Good boy," Chenle says and Jeno feels like he's on fire.

There's just a moment of silence where Jeno digs his hands into the bed to force himself not to touch his dripping cock and Chenle just watches him, head cocked as if Jeno was a particularly interesting documentary. Then he leans back in and wraps his hand back around Jeno, jerking just once, swift and fast but it's enough to bring Jeno all the way back to the edge, embarrassing and fast. Chenle lets go before Jeno can get any gratification out of it and Jeno cries out loud, a jumbled, desperate beg spilling out of his mouth.

The wait is the most intolerable, Jeno thinks. The buildup is fine, even the Chenle not letting him come is manageable. But the wait in between, when Chenle just watches him and Jeno turns beet red under his unwavering gaze, panting and desperate, willing to do anything just to get Chenle's hand back on him again. That's the worst part.

It passes like that, for what feels like _hours_ but is probably just twenty minutes, with Chenle pulling his hand away every single time, _just_ before Jeno is about to come. As if he can tell exactly how close Jeno is just by how his stomach clenches, and his fingers dig into the bed.

Chenle pulls off for the thousandth time, but not without meanly twisting his fingers over the head and Jeno sobs, back bowing under the pressure of _nothing,_ tears dripping down his cheeks. He wants to drop back on the mattress, wants to look away from Chenle, but somehow he knows that won't be appreciated. And Jeno isn't looking for this lesson to turn into a punishment.

"Please," he mumbles, through a hoarse throat. "Please — Chenle — _fuck—_ " Chenle hand wraps back around his cock and Jeno thrusts up into his hand wildly, unencumbered.

"Don't come," Chenle reminds him but he doesn't move his hand away. That is enough for Jeno — just the feeling of Chenle's hand on his cock, still giving him just enough friction that he isn't going insane.

He's openly whimpering now, Chenle's name interspersed with gasps, moans, pleads that fall on deaf ears.

"So good for me, Jeno," Chenle says and words rattle through him, shaking him loose. Chenle jacks him off slowly as he speaks and it feels a thousand times worse now, his cock oversensitive without having even come once. "You've been such a good boy."

"Yes," Jeno whimpers. "Yeah, Chenle, please, please. I wanna come. Please."

"Not yet," Chenle says and moves his hand away just as Jeno's hips jerk up. Jeno starts sobbing in earnest and his tears burn down his cheeks. Precome has dripped down his shaft, down his thighs, dripping all over his bed and Jeno feels so filthy. He feels stretched thin, like a rubber band on the edge of snapping. He _needs_ to come.

Chenle waits for an even longer time now, letting Jeno sit there aching and whimpering, tears sliding down his face. His hand rubs into Jeno’s thighs though, smoothing over the hickeys left there. “Who was this?” Chenle asks. His hand wraps back around Jeno’s dick. 

“Huh?” Jeno manages, his head falling back as Chenle slowly starts his rhythm back up again. 

“This,” Chenle presses into a particularly nasty purple blue bruise and Jeno winces, his cock twitching in Chenle’s hand. 

“Um,” Jeno wracks his brain. Hard to do when he doesn’t have a brain left. It’s all leaked out of his ears. “Jaemin? Hyuck? I don’t remember.”

“Hmm.” Chenle’s hand speeds up and Jeno groans. He feels like he’s about to explode.

“Chenle…” Jeno whispers, so close to snapping apart. His cock is weeping hard, and Chenle’s hand is dripping with his precome. He still looks so put together, so unruffled when Jeno feels like he’s about crumple up, and then implode in on himself. He’s going to come — without permission. He’s — Jeno chokes. “Please,” he whimpers. “Please, please. Please let me come.”

Chenle looks at him and then his other hand is tracing up Jeno’s abs. “You’ve been so good,” he says softly and Jeno nods rapidly. It’s building in his gut again, his stomach clenching, thighs tensing hard under Chenle’s stare, the heavy weight of his hand. “Haven’t you, Jeno?”

“Yes —” Jeno breaks off into a cry as Chenle stops and _squeezes_ hard enough for it hurt. It doesn’t do anything to stop Jeno’s cock from twitching hard in his hand, spitting out more precome that slides down Chenle’s wrist before dropping down onto the floor. God, Jeno’s _filthy._

“Go on,” Chenle says, quietly enough that Jeno thinks he’s misheard him at first. “Come for me, Jeno.”

That’s all Jeno needs. It’s all he’s been waiting for, all this time. The white noise in his ears grows as Chenle speeds his hand up, giving Jeno exactly what he needs. It’s instant relief, instant gratification, the wave in stomach building and building — but Chenle doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull away — and Jeno’s mouth drops open, a scream strangling its way out of his throat as he _explodes_ , coming, his hips pushing up off the mattress, back arching up to the heavens. Come drips across his abs, thighs, Chenle’s hand and Jeno shudders, the aftershocks rolling through him like a slow earthquake. 

He falls onto the mattress, back finally hitting the bed and everything goes quiet. Everything goes white. 

He floats. He’s still shaking, minutely, but he doesn’t feel it. His whole body is one long, loose line, untethered and gone, gone gone. He feels Chenle move away and a small whimper escapes him, not ready to be left alone but then the bed underneath him dips and Chenle’s there, hands wrapping around his body, slowly stroking. 

Jeno lets go. His mind is blissfully blank.

After some time, Jeno doesn’t know long, he starts slowly coming back to himself, coming back down. His nose is pressed into Chenle’s frayed hoodie, breathing him in and Chenle’s fingers are running through his hair, slow and smooth. 

Jeno shifts, wincing a little. He’s going to be so sore tomorrow, he can already feel it, from tensing up for so long. Dried come is stuck to his thighs, and to the sheets. Slowly, the glow fades and Jeno just feels bone tired. 

“You’re back?” Chenle murmurs. 

“Mmm,” Jeno manages. “Itchy.”

Chenle huffs a soft laugh. “I’ll clean you up. You okay if I leave you? Just for a moment.” 

Jeno shakes his head immediately. “No,” he says. “Not yet.” 

“Okay,” Chenle says, soothing. “Okay, I’m not leaving you, Jeno. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” Jeno presses his face into Chenle’s chest, feeling his breath wash over his head. “You did so well,” Chenle continues, tone warm. “So good for me, Jeno.”

Jeno hums, feeling contentment sink into his bones. 

Chenle’s hand sweeps down his chest, pressing lightly into his arms, wringing out the last trace amount of tension and Jeno sinks into him. “I got you,” Chenle murmurs. “You can sleep.”

“Kay,” Jeno manages and then he’s gone, slumping down into the sheets. Floating away. Content in the knowledge that Chenle is right there to take care of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> :]  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/_donghyuck_)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/thereisnoreality)


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